


Little Hands

by Canarii



Series: Hide and Seek [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canarii/pseuds/Canarii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Talk About Something You've Outlived</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Hands

It's her birthday.

He's been frighteningly quiet since they'd departed, silently toying with the controls, that familiar dark expression masking his face.

It's her birthday, and you have no idea how, or why you remembered. These days you can barely keep track of your own. (Your perception of time isn't what it used to be.)

You should say something, do something, distract him with a request or a suggestion, anything to take his mind off the tragedy you've both just witnessed. Let him run away from it all to show you the universe, it's really all you can do . You can be that escape.

 _She'd be twenty-one today, it's almost impossible to imagine, in your mind she'll always be tiny. Something small and wonderful and fragile that you saw bloom and wither in your earliest memories._

You open your mouth to speak, but can't yet find the words. The silence stretches on, and the railing presses into your back as you lean roughly against it.

 _You can't even remember her face, in your memories it's just a blur framed by downy blonde hair, always lighter and finer than yours. Little hands, tugging at your dress, your little sister. You haven't even thought of her in years, almost too young when it happened to truly remember._

You can feel the guilt coming off of him in waves, that familiar brooding misery adding a slump to his stance. As he's perched in the console hair, hands folded in his lap for the moment, bereft of anything left to do, he suddenly looks very old, and tired.

 _You don't remember how it began. You can't remember her being born, learning to walk. All you can recall are those last two days in the hospital, when your parents couldn't find a babysitter and had to bring you along. A front seat to tragedy._

He hasn't even noticed that you've rejoined him in the console room, silently watching him in these long moments. He's not even there, not really, he's back on the surface of that planet, reliving those last fateful minutes, trying to see where he went wrong. You can see it in his face.

 _You remember the doctors saying things you didn't understand, looming over you with smiles that don't extend to their eyes. Now you know what a bone marrow transfusion is, it's urgency, but try explaining that to a tearful five year old, who can't understand why you need to put a needle in them. You're stalling and Mum is crying and yelling, Dad doesn't say anything at all, just watches from the corner of the room. The day passes, the hours tick by. It seems like forever, it was almost no time at all._

You approach on softly-treading feet, and lay a hand on his shoulder. He turns, snaps upright to face you, suddenly brimming with a smile that doesn't reach his sad, old eyes.

 _You finally agree to the transfusion, but you don't remember that part._

You open your mouth to speak, carefully.

 _Anna Sparrow, age three, dies just before midnight._

"You can't always save everyone", you say, and you believe it.


End file.
